Scarlett’s POV
As I entered the house, laughter echoed from the dining room. One voice sent a shiver down my spine. I knew who it belonged to. The man I wished never to see again.
Despite knowing my mother’s wrath awaited if I were late for dinner, I tried to sneak to my room, hoping to avoid him. But my attempt failed. My mother caught me as her face was stormy with anger.
“Why are you late?” she snapped. “I told you this morning to return early! Hector is here to meet you. It’s the first time he has visited since your engagement, and you dare to slack off?”
I opened my mouth to explain, “But Mother, I—”
Slap.
Her hand struck my cheek hard. Tears welled up as I looked at her. Her voice was sharp as a blade. “If I hear you say one more time that you don’t want to marry Hector, I will end your life, Scarlett! Be grateful Alpha Juno has shown mercy.”
“Go to your room,” she ordered coldly. “Alyssia has lent you a dress for tonight. Make yourself presentable and entertain your fiancé. I don’t want to hear any complaints.”
Her hatred stung more than the slap. Would she care if I were gone? Would she ever truly care for me?
“Mommy!” Alyssia, the princess of the Rosetti family, skipped into the hallway. “Why did you give my pink dress to that ugly duckling? I hate seeing my clothes on her! It’s an insult to my fashion sense!”
My mother’s tone softened instantly. “Alyssia, my darling, that dress didn’t fit you anymore. Look at you, perfect in every way, while she—well, she doesn’t even have the curves of a real woman. We only gave it to her to show Alpha Juno’s family that we care. If they thought we were sending them damaged goods, your father might suffer the consequences.”
Satisfied, Alyssia pouted before brightening. “Did you leave me a gift in my room?”
“Yes, my sweet,” Mother cooed. Moments later, Alyssia’s delighted shriek echoed as she discovered the expensive dress she had coveted. “Mommy, you are the best! I love you so much!”
As I passed her in the hallway, holding her prized dress, she gloated about the difference in our treatment. But I was numb. Eighteen years of this had hardened me.
But not anymore.
Dressed and ready, I made my way to the dining room. Hector sat there, tall and imposing with a scar marring his cheek. Some called it a mark of valor. To me, it symbolized his cruelty. He was no hero. He was a monster who preyed on the weak, a coward who thrived in destruction.
“Scarlett, sit next to Hector,” my father commanded.
My heart froze, but I obeyed, sinking into the chair beside him. The maid, who tormented me daily, served me as though I were a pampered young miss. The pretense was nauseating.
As I forced a bite of food, my hands trembled and my heart raced. Then I felt it—a coarse hand on my thigh. His touch crept under my skirt, violating my skin. Tears stung my eyes as laughter and conversation continued around me as all of them were oblivious to my silent torment. And even if they were aware, it hardly mattered to them.
“I need some water,” I blurted, standing abruptly. Without waiting for a response, I fled to the kitchen as my breath ragged.
But he followed after me.
Before I could scream, I felt his chest against my back, his filthy hands roaming where they had no right to be. He touched my ass with one hand and breasts with another, “You need some fattening up,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.
My skin was disgusted. My eyes were full of tears. And my heart was screaming for help. But I was all alone with the abuse and torment of this family.
I pushed against him, quite desperate, but he was too strong. Only the sound of approaching footsteps made him retreat. Shaking, I escaped to my room and locked the door behind me.
There, I collapsed with tears streaming as I whispered to myself, “Death is more honorable than being with him.”
When my mother discovered I had left the table, her punishment as usual brutal. But no slap or no cane could ever hurt as much as his touch.
